


Little Green

by biolvminescence



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Baby Fic, Lots of Angst, M/M, a little bit of sophiam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biolvminescence/pseuds/biolvminescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Of course, I’m upset Niall. You know it just takes me time to process —”</i>
</p><p> </p><p><i>“What is there to process? Tell me, Zayn, what is there to process because it seems pretty clear cut to me. We lost our baby. We were supposed to have a baby and now we don’t."</i><br/> </p><p>In which Zayn and Niall try adopting for the third time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Green

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the 1d Autumn Fic Exchange.  
> I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> Title from 'Little Green' by Joni Mitchell

Zayn’s exhausted by the time he walks into the staff room at ten after eight, and his day has only just begun. He’s only had about three hours of sleep, having spent the entire day before at the hospital and getting home late last night. And while Niall, in usual Niall fashion, had been able to drop off the moment he hit the pillow, a quiet snore slipping from between his lips as he drooled onto his pillow, Zayn couldn’t catch much sleep.

He was too busy thinking and no matter how much his tired mind yearned for sleep, he just couldn’t grasp it.

Now, as he steps into the staff room rubbing at his tired eyes, wishing he hadn’t been forced to sit through a two hour departmental meeting about who’s going to buy the bloody decorations for the upper level Holiday Dance, he’s never felt more tired.

Although this is probably good preparation. Soon they’re going to have a baby keeping them up all night. He’s going to have to train himself to be functional on little to no sleep.

Harry and Niall are already sitting at a table across the staff room and Niall’s beaming like he’s never been happier in his life and Zayn knows he’s got to be happy too. He’s supposed to be happy.

He can’t quite put his finger on the reason why he has to force a smile onto his face.

It’s Harry who catches sight of him first, perking right up in his seat and lifting his arm to wave emphatically at Zayn. Zayn crosses over to their table, leaning over to give Niall a peck on the cheek when he lifts his head before sliding into the seat beside him.

He notices Niall’s smile turn down just the slightest, his brow drawing together as he eyes Zayn curiously. Niall’s always been able to tell when something’s wrong with him. Zayn just grasps his hand beneath the table, threading their fingers together, and Niall’s smile is almost immediately back at full force. Zayn doesn’t think Niall’s stopped smiling since Saturday night when they’d gotten the call to come to the hospital.

Harry looks like he’s about to explode with his excitement, bouncing antsily in his seat before finally blurting out, “Congrats, Daddy!”

“Never, ever call me that again,” Zayn says firmly, pointing a stern finger at Harry who blushes a bit, looking chastened but still pleased as punch. Zayn can almost sense the words that are about to pop out of Niall’s mouth and turns his stern finger on his husband. “Not you either.”

“Oh come on,” Niall whines as he leans against Zayn’s side, looking up at him with big blue eyes, lashes fluttering. Zayn shakes his head firmly. “Well, there’s going to be someone calling you Daddy very soon. Can’t really say no then, can you?”

Zayn smiles easily, tightening his hand around Niall’s as he nudges his shoulder against his. “You’re going to be Daddy, you nutter, remember? We just talked about this yesterday.”

“That’s right!” Niall says excitedly, glad that Zayn’s playing along. “I’m Daddy; you’re Baba.”

The word sounds funny in Niall’s Irish lilt, especially compared to the way Zayn himself has said it for his entire life. He has a feeling that it’s going to lead to some jokes and snickering behind Niall’s back at family events but Zayn couldn’t care less. Niall’s trying, and that means more to him than he’ll ever be able to admit. Everyone who has a problem with it can fuck right off.

“I’m not Baba yet,” Zayn reminds Niall, whose lips turn down into a pout almost immediately. He hates to be the buzzkill but that’s sort of how it always is between them. He’s the serious one that always seems to be ruining Niall’s fun in some way. And yet, somehow, Niall loves him, more than Zayn has ever been loved by anyone in his life before, except maybe his mum. He’s never punished Zayn for being himself and that’s what makes them so strong, Zayn suspects. “Lila still needs to sign the papers.”

Maybe he expects Niall to laugh it off because he’s a little surprised when Niall’s face falls a bit, a thoughtful expression sparking up behind his eyes as he looks down to the table.

“She will, though,” Harry interrupts. When Zayn glances over, Harry’s looking between them warily, his eyes lingering on Niall who’s fallen quiet. He widens his eyes at Zayn as if to say _play along_ and plasters on one of his wide dimpled smiles that seems to add an infectious positivity to any room Harry’s in. “You’ll be bringing that beautiful girl home tonight, just like you planned. _Right Zayn_?”

Niall looks up at Zayn with a helplessness in his expression that makes Zayn want to sweep him up in a cuddle, hold on tight so Niall knows that he’s not alone, that Zayn is just as scared as he is. But they’re in the staff room at work and Mrs. Lynsky already gives them dirty looks when they hold hands under the table, and Zayn doesn’t want to give her any more ammunition to bring to the Headmaster for her next round of bogus complaints.

So instead, he just says, “Of course we are, babe. We’re bringing her home.”

Niall blows out a long breath and then a smile slowly creeps back onto his face as he nods. It seems forced though, which just feels wrong for Niall who is always so buoyant and positive and happy. Zayn hates it.

Harry seems to be the one in charge of damage control today because he clears his throat pointedly, beaming at the two of them when they look over. “Have you picked a name yet?”

“They’re going to name her Louis, obviously.” The voice is unmistakable and sure enough, Louis plops into the free seat beside Zayn a second later. He takes a moment to give Zayn a congratulatory pat on the shoulder before crossing his arms over his chest. He’s never been one for dramatic displays of affection, just like Zayn.

He suspects it’s why Louis and him have always just clicked. They get each other and they don’t need a lot of words to do it.

“‘S not really a good girl’s name though,” Harry points out, tapping his chin gently as if he’s actually considering it.

Louis shoots Harry a dirty look. “Louise, then. That good enough for you?”

The snarky tone seems to go right over Harry’s head because he tilts his head thoughtfully and then nods. “You could name her Louise.”

“We’re not naming her Louise,” Zayn says firmly before Niall can go getting any ideas. They’ve run through hundreds of possibilities and Niall always seems to pick the craziest ones.

Zayn is _not_ naming his daughter after Louis.

“I’ve always thought traditional names were nice,” Harry says, a wistful sort of smile on his face as he glances out the window at the rainy day outside. “Jane, and Elizabeth, and Emma, and Catherine, and Charlotte.”

“I think Zayn’s capable of a little more originality than that,” Louis sneers, rolling his eyes when Harry looks over at him with an offended little pout tugging at his lips.

“Maybe Zayn appreciates the fact that traditional names are timeless.”

“Or maybe Zayn doesn’t want his daughter feeling like she needs to be a drab spinster because they’ve decided to name her Ethel.”

“Maybe Zayn doesn’t want to be pulled into this,” Zayn mumbles, shifting closer to Niall when his husband gives his hand a supportive squeeze.

It’s always like this — Louis and Harry are pretty much in love with each other, except Harry is completely and utterly clueless about his own feelings and Louis responds to his obliviousness with frustration, lashing out at Harry unfairly. Conversations like this are so typical of the two of them that Zayn can already predict the outcome — Louis will cross a line and Harry will storm off in a huff, maybe tearing up a little bit because he tends to be a little emotional when it comes to Louis. And then his poor reception class will have to deal with a mopey teacher instead of their usual vibrant teacher, and 17 little 4 year olds will go home wondering why Mr. Harry was upset that morning.

And no matter how many times Zayn has told Louis that he’s being an idiot and that if he wants Harry to respond to him he could try _actually being nice for once_ , he never seems to get it through his thick skull.

“We’re waiting until we have her to name her,” Niall finally says, interrupting a heated debate between the two of them. And just in time it seems because Louis’s leaned forward in his seat and Harry’s got a bit of a wobble in his chin, and neither of those things hints at a good outcome.

“You are?” Harry asks curiously at the same time Louis barks, “why?”

“We want to see who she is first before we name her,” Zayn tells them. “If we can see her personality a bit, we can choose a name that fits her that she’ll grow into.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Louis scoffs.

“That’s lovely,” Harry counters, shooting a glare in Louis’ direction that is so fierce and unexpected that it actually manages to shut Louis up. He sinks back in his chair with a petulant frown, narrowing his eyes at the table in front of him like it’s personally offended him. Harry, on the other hand, smiles warmly at Zayn and Niall. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

“It was Niall’s brilliant idea,” Zayn admits, chuckling when Niall’s cheeks flush a bright red. No matter how many times Zayn tells him, Niall’s never gotten used to being called brilliant. But that’s what he is — brilliant. A brilliant teacher to his year 4 class. A brilliant chair of the parent’s association.

And now, he’s going to be a brilliant dad, Zayn just knows it.

“Hopefully she’ll have a name soon.” Niall gives Zayn a lingering look, squeezing his hand tight. “Because we’re bringing her home tonight.”

He says it with such finality, such surety, that Zayn almost believes it himself.

Almost.

 

****

 

The thing is, they’ve been here before. Twice.

The first time was painful enough — showing up to the hospital only to be denied entrance to the maternity ward, a lawyer coming out to tell them that the mother had changed her mind at the last minute. It had crushed both of them. But his mum told him that the best way to get over a heartbreak like that is to jump right back in so they’d applied again.

The next time, they’d gone a different route and tried fostering first. They’d been paired up with a little boy named Matt who had lost his parents in an accident. It had taken a lot of hard work to get Matt to warm up to them and let them in but he and Niall were both teachers; they knew kids. They’d managed to connect with Matt and were fully prepared to bring him into their family when his grandparents showed up to claim them, having been out of contact for months.

Niall had taken it incredibly hard. He’d already gotten so attached to little Matt and when they’d been told that Matt wouldn’t be coming home with them, he swore to Zayn that they wouldn’t try again. It was just too hard.

But there had been a feeling in their house, like something was missing, and they both knew what it was. Every time someone asked if they were planning to give it another go, they’d share a look, one that was full of regret but also of hope. So a couple of months ago they decided to give it one last shot.

It’s better this time around. They were in the hospital when the baby was born and Zayn spoke to her mum afterward, and she seemed very excited to see her baby going to a happy couple. They’d even gotten a chance to hold the baby girl, who was only a couple of hours old by then. She dozed the entire time but that didn’t stop Niall from falling in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her. Zayn has to admit that he’s pretty smitten too.

And yet, he can’t shake this lingering feeling that something is wrong. It’s almost as if everything is going too well, and experience has taught him that’s when everything tends to take a turn for the worst. He feels antsy as he welcomes his Year Eights into the class, a nervous energy starting up in the pit of his stomach that spreads right through him.

He’s distracted as his class discusses the chapter of the Outsiders they’d read the night before, the scene with the fire in the barn. He only has to say a couple of words on the topic before they launch into their own debate. And while some of the opinions aren’t the most observant or intuitive, at least everyone’s got something to say and that makes Zayn incredibly proud.

This is how he imagined teaching to be when he’d first decided it was what he wanted to do — leading engaging class discussions and encouraging his students to think for themselves, inspiring them to strive for the very best learning. As he looks around at students who only a few short months ago didn’t want to pick up a book, he feels an incredible fulfillment as he surveys the class.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s zoned out of the discussion until Sasha puts her hand up from the back of the class, calling out his name repeatedly. When he finally gives her a nod, she sits up proper in her seat as if she’s a representative speaking on behalf of the people. “How long are you going to be gone? Like, a week? Or a long time?”

“About three weeks.”

“But Mr. Malik, that’s too long.”

It’s Britt that speaks up next, a worried expression crossing her face as she looks warily between him and her classmates. She was such a shy student when she’d first walked into his class, a transfer from somewhere up North. It had taken him a long time to encourage her to speak up in class and share her opinions, and now she’s no longer afraid to speak her mind. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t get a bit nervous, and her face flushes when a couple of the rowdy boys at the back snicker, muttering about a crush.

“Oi, shut it,” John says as he rounds in his seat and narrows his eyes at the boys in the back. John’s the leader of the class, the cool student that everyone looks up to, so it’s no surprise when the boys shut up. What Zayn is more surprised with is the sweet smile John sends Britt when she looks over at him sheepishly. This is a new development, one that Niall will get a real kick out of. He loves student gossip.

“I just mean,” Britt clarifies, her voice timid as she stares down at the desk in front of her, “that you’ll be away for our exam prep. How are we going to do it without you?”

Zayn finds himself smiling as the class agrees enthusiastically with Britt. “I’m so sorry,” Zayn says honestly as he leans back against his desk and crosses his feet at the ankle as he looks out over his class. “I know it’s not the best timing. But it’s sort of a big time for me and I need a couple of weeks away.”

Niall and Zayn have arranged to alternate their paternity leave so that each of them will take a semester off to be with the baby for the first year, but both of them want the first three weeks off to be with her together. Zayn has to admit that it isn’t the most convenient time to be taking vacation but he doesn’t have much control over that, and as much as he loves his class, nothing is more important to him than their new baby girl.

His class knows about the adoption — he was forced to tell them when he kept having to take calls during class time from the agency and the social worker. It’s no secret that he and Niall are married; they’ve never made an effort to hide it and while they’re professional, Niall’s dropped by his class on his break a couple of times to pass Zayn something he forgot at home or even just to say hello.

His class thinks it’s adorable and the moment Niall leaves, there is teasing from all around until Zayn has to threaten them with a one page essay on the function of the Monarchy to get them to shut up.

So it’s no surprise when John pipes up and says, “We’re happy for you Mr. M.”

“Thanks John, I appreciate that.”

Britt looks like she’s ready to burst, her fingers curled around the edge of the desk tightly. Zayn waits patiently with a brow quirked until she finally spits out, “But our exams, Mr. Malik, what are we supposed to do for exams?”

There are groans from all around and someone mutters “fuck off Britt” from the back. Zayn narrows in on the culprit, Rodney Taylor, and points a finger at him. “Detention, Rodney. You know that language isn’t allowed in my classroom.” Rodney just sighs — this isn’t the first time Zayn’s given him detention for his bad mouth. “And I don’t want any of you to worry,” Zayn tells the rest of the class, giving Britt a supportive smile. “I’ve already prepared a study package for the substitute teacher to give you and left a note on how to work through it. And I’ll be back in time for the exam so I’ll be there to answer questions on test day. That sound alright?”

There are agreements from all around and when Zayn looks to Britt, she gives him a timid nod as well.

“Mr. Malik, can you make sure they send a cool teacher like you to be our substitute teacher?” Nicole asks, receiving some supportive cheers from her classmates.

Zayn grins as he looks sheepishly at the floor. He never imagined that anyone would ever think of him as the cool teacher. He’s a bit quiet and he’s definitely strict with his class. He thought he’d be one of those teachers that students love to hate but who manages to inspire them anyway. But apparently he’s cool — and maybe that’s because he tends to roll up his sleeves far enough to show off his tattoos, or he can talk all day about comic books, or he finds connections between the stuff they’re learning in class and the latest episode of the Walking Dead to make their topics relatable. Either way, he’s chuffed to be the cool teacher, and quite flattered that it’s part of the reason his students don’t want him to go.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any control on who’s taking my place. But I want you to all promise to behave, alright? Now, now, none of that,” he says when his class groans, Rodney and his friends booing from the back. “We’ve got a reputation to maintain and I don’t want you ruining it by acting like little brats with the new teacher. You’re better than that.”

Just like that, the class perks up, all of them sitting up at their best. And maybe that’s why his class respects him, why they’re engaged and opinionated, and why they perform so well. Because Zayn’s always believed the best of them.

“We promise, Mr. M,” John says for the class.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now I believe we were talking about what Ponyboy says after they get the kids out, about being a Greaser and how that makes them bad kids. Can we pick that back up and talk about class issues and —”

Zayn stops when his phone rings out of the blue. His class is used to this so they begin to talk amongst themselves as he reaches back to pick up his phone from his desk. He checks the screen, looking for a caller ID.

When he spots it, the blood rushes from his face and he feels a bit faint. That uneasy feeling that has been sitting in his stomach all day gets worst, twisting his gut until he feels sick. He swallows hard against the thick lump in his throat, standing up on shaky legs. He excuses himself from the class for a moment, going out into the hall to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Malik?” The voice is familiar — it’s Nadia, the social worker they’ve been working with since they first began the adoption process. The last time they spoke, she was excitedly telling him that Lila had gone into labour. Now, she sounds almost guilty and Zayn has to put his hand on the locker beside him and lean his forehead on the cool metal to keep himself composed.

“It’s me.”

“I need to talk to you. About the adoption. There’s been a development.”

 

****

 

Zayn dismisses his class to lunch early, telling them it’s a reward for them being such a great class through all of this and a little going away present for all of them. They don’t argue him on it — after all, there’s still a half hour of class time left before lunch, time that they can now spend whichever way they please. All of them give him a warm goodbye, some of them even stopping to give him a hug and wish him well. It nearly undoes him, hearing all the well wishes they’re giving him on the new baby that he no longer has, as of ten minutes ago.

He goes out to his car in the lot, climbing into the passenger’s seat and reaching over to turn the key in the ignition. There’s an indie CD in the player, something Harry had forced on them that Niall had actually grown to like, and Zayn turns it all the way up until it almost hurts to listen to. And then he reclines his seat, folds his arms over his chest, and stares at the grey ceiling of the car.

That nervous feeling from before is gone but it’s replaced with a sort of emptiness. He knows he should be sad and angry, frustrated and hurt, but he can’t muster any of that. He’s got nothing.

But that’s always been the way Zayn reacts to bad news, ever since he was a little kid. When he was 8, he got pushed off the playground and hurt his arm, and he hid away in his room for the whole afternoon, not making a word. It wasn’t until his mum came up to put his laundry away that she realized he was even home and that he had, as it turned out, a broken arm. He didn’t cry, not on the way there, not at the hospital. He didn’t cry until he was being tucked into bed that night, arm in a cast. It all hit him at once and he cried so hard that for a moment he couldn’t breathe, and he slept for nearly twelve hours that night.

Niall says it just takes him time to process and that there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s learned to let Zayn have his space as he thinks things through and waits for Zayn to come to him when he’s ready to feel what he needs to feel. Niall’s the first person who’s ever truly understood Zayn’s need to escape with his feelings and it’s one of the reasons Zayn loves Niall so much — he gets him. He just does.

And Zayn gets Niall too, so he knows that Niall isn’t going to react well to this news. He dreads telling him but knows that he has to, sooner than later before Niall can get too excited about going to pick up the baby tonight. So after listening to the whole CD through at top volume, lying reclined in his car, Zayn finally gets up. He turns off the car and then gets out, straightening his shirt and slipping his keys back into his pocket. With a flat face, he walks back into the school, weaving through halls bustling with students going to lunch and heading straight for the staff room where he knows he’ll find Niall waiting.

When he pushes the door to the staff room open, he’s immediately overwhelmed by sound, and the colour pink. It’s everywhere — in the streamers strung up on the wall, and the balloons all around the room, and the signs that say _Congratulations Niall and Zayn on your new baby!_ It takes him a second to figure out what’s going on and then all he can think is _oh no oh no oh no_.

This is worse than hearing his students wishing him good luck with the baby. This is ten times worse, because all their fellow teachers are crowded into the room, even the ones that don’t like them, and there’s a couple of presents stacked on the counter that everyone must have pitched in for, and a god damn cake sitting on the table waiting to be cut.

And Niall is grinning like he’s never been happier in his life. He’s smiling almost as widely as he was smiling when he and Zayn said their vows and slipped their wedding rings on each other’s fingers. Zayn looks down at the band of gold now, feeling a crunch in his heart. They were so close to being a real family, all the pieces fitting into place. Now, they were back to where they started.

Zayn hates this, hates that he has to be the one to break the news to Niall. Those awful words are going to come out of his mouth and this will be the third time that Zayn’s had to tell his husband that they just weren’t good enough, that the mother changed her mind and decided she didn’t want to entrust her baby with them.

He knows he has to do it though. And the longer he waits, the harder it will be.

Just as he’s about to push the door open all the way and step in, a loud cheer goes up. At first, he thinks everyone has spotted him and that they’re about to pounce him and congratulate him. Instead, they surround Liam, who’s standing with Niall across the room. It’s Niall that pulls him into a big bear hug, claps him on the back and smacks a kiss to his cheek. And that can’t be right — it should be the other way around, shouldn’t it?

“There he is! Daddy Malik!”

Zayn’s positive that he’s going to kill Harry, and judging by the sheepish look on Harry’s face as he crosses the room and drags Zayn toward their little group in the middle of the party, he knows it. Except he probably thinks it’s because of the _daddy_ thing. Really, it’s because Zayn’s got to smile now and wave and say thank you as people yell out congratulations from all around the room as he moves through it.

Niall holds out an arm as Zayn approaches and he grasps Zayn’s hand, using it to pull him the rest of the way. He drops his hand to slip his arm around Zayn’s waist, his hand a steady presence on Zayn’s hip, and he leans in to kiss Zayn gently in place of a _hello_. “Glad you decided to join us. Class ran a little long?”

Zayn glances down at his watch and realizes it’s nearly halfway through lunch break. He must have been in the car for longer than he thought. “The kids were just saying goodbye,” Zayn tells him, his voice sounding oddly stilted and formal. Niall’s face scrunches up in that way it always does when he’s confused but it smoothes out almost immediately as he reaches his free hand out to clap Liam on the shoulder.

“You missed Payno’s big announcement.”

Zayn looks between them — Niall beaming brilliantly, Liam smiling proudly with a light flush on his cheeks, Louis actually cracking a smile as he pats Liam on the back, and Harry bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking almost pained with keeping the secret. “What’ve I missed?”

“Soph’s —”

“Sophia’s pregnant!” Harry blurts out, immediately grimacing as he gets a dirty look from both Liam and Louis for stealing the moment. “Sorry, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so excited for you!”

Liam looks like he’s forgiven Harry already, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles. This is the sort of news that makes you forgiving, that warms your soul and makes you want to spread that positive feeling with everyone you know. Zayn knows; he’s been there before, when they first told their friends that the first adoption had been approved. And the second. And the third.

Now, he’s got the exact opposite of a smile on his face. His heart has dropped to his stomach and he’s got a lump in his throat. He feels like he’s going to be sick again. “How far along?” he manages to croak out.

“Four months,” Liam says. “We wanted to wait until we were in the safe zone before we told anyone, just in case.” Liam’s sister had a miscarriage a couple of years back and Zayn remembers how hard it was for the whole family. It doesn’t surprise him that Liam waited. “Sophia’s had her scan just this morning to confirm everything’s going alright.”

“That’s —” Zayn swallows hard, forcing himself to smile as he holds out his hand. “That’s incredible news, congratulations.”

Liam looks at Zayn’s outstretched hand like it personally offends him and yanks him into a hug instead. Zayn does all the things he’s supposed to, claps Liam on the back and squeezes him tight for a moment. After all, he and Liam have been best friends since uni. It would be weird for him to do otherwise.

Niall’s giving him a strange look when Liam finally lets him go and Zayn just _knows_ that Niall can sense something is wrong. It makes that feeling of dread creep up again until he has to look away from Niall. He focuses on Liam instead. “Do you know what it is yet?”

And then Liam says the words that absolutely crush Zayn. “A girl.”

A girl. They’re having a girl. And Niall and Zayn aren’t, not anymore. It’s like the cruelest irony and Zayn almosts laughs.

“Our girls are going to be best mates,” Niall says confidently. “They’ll be a few months apart but that hardly matters. No more than Zayn and I, and look at us, right?” Niall looks over at Zayn warmly, his blue eyes searching out Zayn’s face for an enthusiastic reaction that he won’t get. “Right, Zayn? They’ll be so close. Can’t you already picture it, our little lass and Liam’s being thick as thieves?”

Zayn is struggling to breathe. He’s given up on the pretense of pretending he’s happy and he can tell the exact moment that Niall catches sight of the pain in Zayn’s expression and figures out that something is definitely wrong. He turns Zayn so they’re face to face, his hands coming to rest on Zayn’s hips. “Zee, what’s going on?”

“Niall, there’s something I need to tell you.”

 

****

 

Niall reacts just about the way Zayn expects him too. After Zayn pulls him into a deserted hall and stammers over the news that they’re no longer going to be fathers, Niall loses it a bit, punching a locker and then sliding down to the floor. He leans his head back against the locker, tilting it up toward Zayn, and he can see the tears pooling in Niall’s eyes.

“We were so close,” he mumbles over and over as Zayn slides down beside him and pulls him into his arms, holding his husband close to him. Niall clings to Zayn’s shirt as he cries into his neck, letting out all the frustration and pain and sorrow that Zayn wishes he could muster but can’t quite seem to grasp. When Niall finally pulls back with a sniffle, wiping his snotty nose on the sleeve of his jumper, he breathes out a heavy sigh. “We were so close this time, Zee.”

“I know,” Zayn says supportively, rubbing his hand in a gentle circle on Niall’s back. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault,” Niall grumbles and Zayn knows that Niall is thinking the same thing he is.

It’s not their faults — it’s Lila’s. She promised to do this, swore she would sign the papers. Zayn wants to hate her for it, for taking this opportunity away from them once again.

But he can’t. He can’t even imagine how hard this must be for her. She’s only 18 and in her first year of uni; she’s barely an adult. She’s confused and scared and doesn’t know what she wants. And Zayn doesn’t blame her for that. When he was her age, he would never have been able to handle a baby. He was too busy stressing over literature essays and screwing boys in the club toilets when he went out with his mates. He couldn’t have handled a decision this big.

And he’s read that there’s a special bond between a mum and a baby, even if she plans to give it up. It’s hormones, but it’s also the act of carrying around a child for nine months, giving them what they need to grow and live. That’s a powerful bond that isn’t easily broken.

So he can’t hate her, even though he desperately wants to, and he sort of ends up just hating himself. He feels like he’s responsible, though he isn’t sure why. He hates that he can’t cry like Niall, that he can’t get angry like Niall. He hates that he just feels useless.

“I can’t go back to my class,” Niall says when the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. “I can’t. They made us a card, Zee. And — and they all pitched in to buy a babygro for her. Zayn, they’re only 10 and they bought us a babygro and I’ll cry if I look at them —”

“I’ll cover,” Zayn says immediately, shushing Niall gently as he rubs a hand up and down his arm. “I’ll get my kids to come to your class and we’ll all do something together. It’ll be fine.”

“But —”

“Just go home, babe, alright?” Zayn leans in so he can press his lips gently to Niall’s temple, and then to the top of his head as Niall dips his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck to take some deep breaths. “I’ll handle it. Just go home and do what you need to do.”

Zayn’s almost sure that he’ll come home to find Niall in a pair of joggers and a worn sweatshirt, thick socks on his feet, curled up on the sofa watching one of his favourite old Derby matches that he’s got saved on his computer. His hair will be wet from a shower because Niall usually retreats to the shower when he needs a good cry. And despite the wet spot on Zayn’s collar that remains as evidence of the tears that Niall has already shed, Zayn knows there will be more to come as Niall begins to fully process what this all means.

“You’re the best, Zee,” Niall says softly, curling into Zayn a bit.

“I love you, alright?” Zayn picks Niall’s chin up gently so he can kiss him slowly, brushing a couple of tears off his cheeks as he pulls away. “We’re going to get through this.”

Niall lets out a shuddering breath and nods, though he doesn’t look very convinced. He lets go of Zayn so he can rise to his feet. Zayn takes Niall’s hands in his own and uses them to pull Niall to his feet. When he’s upright, Zayn sweeps him into a tight hug, squeezing back hard when he feels Niall’s arms tightening around his back. They stand there for a moment and then break apart.

“Call me if you need me,” Zayn tells Niall after he walks him to the doors. Niall nods, taking the keys that Zayn gives to him. Niall got a ride from Harry that morning so that Zayn could take the car for his early meeting, so Zayn figures Harry won’t mind giving him a ride home tonight.

Although that probably means Zayn will have to deal with Harry’s sympathetic looks and lengthy awkward silences. He’ll tolerate it for Niall’s sake.

Once he’s sent his husband off, Zayn rushes through the halls to his classroom, gathering up his students so they can all go down to Niall’s classroom together. They all seem very confused but it means they won’t have to write their maths quiz so none of them complain.

There’s a teacher’s aid waiting in Niall’s classroom looking frazzled, and she immediately pounces on Zayn with demanding questions about where the hell Niall is the second he steps in the door. He sends her off with a couple excuses about Niall feeling poorly and then encourages his own Year Eights to scatter amongst Niall’s Year Fours, who are looking at the older students with a mix of fear and reverence.

Niall’s already got a science game planned for his class and after checking the teacher’s plan in Niall’s drawer, Zayn guides the class through it, separating out 4 teams with equal numbers from his class and Niall’s. They all get a little crazy playing the game, taking pictures of animals and sorting them onto the board which has been sectioned off into mammals, reptiles, birds, and amphibians. The Year Eights mostly instruct the Year Fours where to put everything, sending the younger students running to the board so they can stick their picture in the right place.

It becomes a race so there’s plenty of noise in the room and Zayn’s just waiting for another teacher to come by and complain. Nobody does — Zayn’s seen Niall’s lesson plans when they’ve sat down together on a Sunday to work, and he knows that craziness in the classroom is nothing new for Niall. He’s always made it his mission to find the most fun, engaging way to educate his students that he possibly can. And while it can become a bit of a madhouse, his class tests better than the other Year Four class so nobody can really say it’s a bad thing.

Niall’s going to be the fun parent, Zayn knows that. He’ll be the one getting messy at the park and playing every sport and dressing up in ridiculous costumes and having tea parties. Zayn’s going to be the parent who does the quiet things, reading, and crafts, and puzzles. But that’s who Zayn and Niall are, and Zayn has a good feeling that their house is going to be a very balanced place because of that.

That’s if they ever get the chance to become parents, which is starting to seem like a slim possibility.

Zayn spends most of the afternoon sitting quietly at Niall’s desk, watching the kids have a blast with their science game and then pairing them up to do some reading circles like the lesson plan indicates. In the quiet room, Zayn’s mind gets a chance to wander which is a dangerous thing. He can’t stop thinking about the phone call earlier, how Nadia had said that Lila “struggled with the decision but ultimately decided to keep the baby”. Zayn wishes he could call Lila and ask her why. What did they do wrong? What did they need to fix? How could they make it better? But he can’t. And not knowing is what’s really got him stuck. It’s the thing that won’t leave him alone, this constant wonder of _why_.

When he dismisses both classes at the end of the day, he’s surprised when a couple of Niall’s Year Fours approach him. They know who he is and that he’s Niall’s husband but they’ve always seemed a little wary of him (probably for the same reasons that his own students think he’s _cool_ ). A brave little girl steps forward, holding a big card and an opened box with the babygro Niall had mentioned. She asks in her politest voice if he would _pretty please give this to the baby and to tell Mr. H that they’re all very happy that he’s happy_.

Zayn has to roll his lips together for a moment and take a deep breath in through his nose before he can find the words to say thank you to the sweet little girl who only wants the best for her teacher.

He has to hold the big card in his lap in the car, Harry fighting so hard not to say anything in the driver’s seat beside him.

It’s a long ride home.

 

****

 

Niall’s not home when Zayn gets home, which is a little bit alarming. But when Zayn checks his phone, he’s got a text from Niall saying he’s gone into the city to see Greg. Zayn’s pretty sure that Niall’s going to spend the whole time playing with Theo, pretending he isn’t upset, but Denise will probably root the truth out of him and then insist on feeding him when he gets upset. It would seem that Zayn’s going to have a good portion of the night to himself.

He isn’t quite sure what he’s going to do. They were supposed to be driving to the hospital at 7 to pick up the baby and take her home. Niall was worrying about the fact that they hadn’t installed the car seat yet the night before but Zayn’s sure he’s probably glad for it now that he doesn’t have to glimpse it every time he looks in the rear view on the way into the city.

Zayn doesn’t have to worry about car seats now. Or making sure they have enough nappies and formula. Or making doubles of all the paperwork once they got home so they have a backup of everything. None of that matters anymore.

He considers calling his mum and telling her the news but she’ll cry, and he hasn’t even cried yet, and he doesn’t think he can handle that. Plus if he tells his mum, she’ll tell his sisters, and they’ll all insist on driving out to see them and then all the Maliks will be crowded in his house except for the newest one and that will just feel awful. Even now, the house feels incredibly empty. He couldn’t deal with it having that same emptiness even while it was filled with people.

So he doesn’t call anyone. Doesn’t do much of anything. He gets to some odd chores that they’ve been putting off, replacing a burnt lightbulb in the bedroom and giving the tub a proper clean. It’s when he’s tackling the dishes that have piled up in the sink that he hears the front door open and shut quietly. Zayn glances over his shoulder when he hears footsteps near the kitchen and sure enough, Niall’s leaning against the door frame, a weary sort of smile on his face as he watches Zayn. His eyes are red and puffy so it’s clear he’s had a good cry but hopefully he got all the Theo cuddles he needed and he’s going to be okay for the night.

“Hey,” Zayn says quietly as he rinses the dish in his hand, putting it in the drying rack. He feels Niall’s hands slip onto his hips a moment later, his hot breath tickling the back of Zayn’s neck. He’d yanked his hair into a topknot earlier before he got to work so Niall has unhindered access as he begins placing gentle kisses on the nape of Zayn’s neck, making a shiver run down his spine.

“Hey.”

“Feeling any better?” Zayn asks as he shuts off the tap, turning in Niall’s hold so that they’re pressed chest to chest, his lower back resting against the counter. Niall’s hands find their home on his hips once more as he boxes Zayn in until there isn’t an inch of space left between them.

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“That’s understandable but we —”

His words are eaten up in a kiss as Niall surges forward, pressing his lips hard against Zayn’s. He’s a bit confused at first, standing still as Niall’s hands slide slowly up and down his side, but he succumbs to it soon enough, lifting a hand to cup Niall’s jaw as he presses into his mouth greedily.

They’ve always fit perfectly together, him and Niall. He’d been reluctant to even give it a go when Niall timidly asked him out after a faculty-wide staff meeting at the school. He didn’t know Niall very well at the point, but he did know he was vivacious and full of energy and a little bit mad, and Zayn didn’t think they would mesh well together. But Niall seemed so uncharacteristically nervous and Harry was shooting him furious nods over Niall’s shoulder so he said yes.

They are complete opposites — Zayn is quiet where Niall is loud, pensive where Niall is impulsive, cautious where Niall tends to be a dreamer. But they work. They balance. And when they come together like this, when they let their physical attraction take over, it’s incredible.

That’s why Zayn can’t help but throw himself into the kiss, wrap his arm around Niall’s middle and pull him close. But then Niall’s hand slides down to his bum, pulling their bodies together until he can feel Niall hard against his hip, and suddenly it all feels wrong. He doesn’t want this. This doesn’t feel right.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks him seriously, meeting Niall’s hazy gaze. He looks adorably confused for a moment, biting his lip as his brow draws together. Zayn waits patiently for him to come up with some explanation for where this is all coming from but Niall just shakes his head.

“I don’t want to think about it,” Niall says again. He steps closer to Zayn, pressing him up against the counter, and leans in to kiss Zayn’s neck. “Just some fun, Zee,” Niall mumbles as his hands drag up the hem of Zayn’s shirt, sliding beneath it so they can skim over Zayn’s stomach. “To make us not sad anymore. To make it better.”

“This isn’t the way to — Niall, stop,” Zayn says firmly as Niall’s fingers curl around his belt, pulling it against the buckle to undo it. “That’s enough.”

Zayn snatches Niall’s hands in his own, using them to push him back a step so they aren’t pressed together anymore. Niall squirms to try and shake him off, letting out an indignant huff, but Zayn holds onto him until he knows he has Niall’s attention.

“Zayn, what the fuck?”

“I said we’re not doing this.” Zayn levels Niall with a firm stare. “I know you’re sad but I’m not going to let you use me like this to work out your feelings.”

Niall is stunned for a moment, gaping back at Zayn, but then his expression darkens. He tears his hands out of Zayn’s hold and takes hurried steps back until he’s bashing into the island behind him.

“Fuck you,” he hisses at Zayn, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment. When they shoot back up, there’s a flash of anger behind them and then Niall’s right up in his face. “Fuck you, Zayn! That’s not fair and you know it!”

“What’s not fair, Niall? Enlighten me.”

“Using you to work out my feelings? Do you think I’m that much of a shit that I’d do that to you?” He shakes his head as he staggers back again, the anger on his face shifting into a pained expression. “I — I’m just really hurting Zayn and I thought you’d understand —”

“I do understand —”

“No, you don’t!” Niall shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Zayn. “ _You_ can’t possibly understand what I’m feeling right now because you aren’t feeling anything.” It’s like a blow to the chest and Zayn sags back against the counter. “You haven’t cried Zayn. You haven’t yelled or screamed or cried, and I’m starting to wonder if you’re even upset.”

“Of course, I’m upset Niall,” Zayn snaps back. “You know it just takes me time to process —”

“What is there to process?” Niall cuts in, throwing his arms up dramatically. “Tell me, Zayn, what is there to process because it seems pretty clear cut to me. We lost our baby. We were supposed to have a baby and now we don’t. What about that is so difficult to _process_.”

“Mocking me isn’t going to solve this,” Zayn says as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings? Will that make you feel better?”

“Well, at least if I hurt your feelings, I’m making you _feel something_. Here I am, utterly shattered, heartbroken, barely going ten minutes without crying. And when I come home looking for some comfort, or maybe even a distraction, all I get is a fucking robot who isn’t even sad that we had our baby taken away from us!”

“I am sad!” Zayn says insistently. “If I could produce tears on the spot, I would Niall. But I can’t, okay? And I wish you could see how heartbroken I am, how guilty I feel, Niall, because I do. I feel so incredibly guilty and I wish I could show that to you. But I don’t know how and it’s not fair for you to punish me for that, or use that to guilt me into having sex with you or whatever it is you were trying to do.”

Niall’s mouth is hanging open by the time Zayn’s done. He simply stares at Zayn for a moment and then shakes his head, taking a step back. “You’re an idiot,” he hisses at Zayn, turning on his heel and storming away from the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed,” Niall shouts over his shoulder. “Don’t follow me.”

Zayn watches him go, listens as he storms up the stairs and down the hall, and then slams the door shut to their bedroom. He slides down the counter to the floor, bending his knees up and letting his head sink against them.

They’re supposed to be there for each other. They’re supposed to help each other through tough times. That’s what being a good husband is about. And in the most difficult time they’ve been through in a long time, Zayn’s managed to make Niall so upset that he’s locked himself in their bedroom.

Zayn’s wondering how a day that started out so good could have turned out so wrong.

 

****

 

Niall doesn’t unlock the bedroom door so Zayn is left to wander around the house, keeping himself busy. It’s not like he could have slept anyways if he had the choice. His mind is too busy going over everything that happened that day and wondering when the exact moment was that everything started to go to shit.

He wanders and thinks, thinks and wanders, going from room to room and hoping he’ll find something to distract him. He’s about to just storm up to the bedroom and pound on the door until Niall lets him in when a slightly ajar door in the hall stops him. He steps towards it and pushes it open.

They decorated the nursery months ago, maybe a little too early but Zayn never can say no to Niall, and he was admittedly pretty excited about the baby as well. They’d worked on it together, made it their summer project before school resumed for the new year. Niall had begged Zayn to do something special on the walls so he’d decorated the walls with flowers and trees and fairies, because Niall was anti-princess (“it enforces bogus gender roles, Zee, come on, you’re a teacher, you should know that”) and fairies seemed like the next best thing. They’d decorated to match, white wood furniture and soft green linens and little stuffed woodland creatures to fit the theme.

It’s the perfect room for a little girl.

Zayn walks slowly around the room, running his fingers over the edge of the cot, and the little stuffed rabbit lying inside. He opens up boxes on top of the changing table that hold wipes and cream, pulls open the drawer that’s stocked full of nappies. It’s when he gets to the chest of drawers that he comes to a full stop. He yanks open the top drawer.

It’s full of row upon row of babygros. That’s what everyone had gotten them as gifts for the new baby. Zayn can’t count the number of times he’d held up a babygro to show it off to Niall who would coo over the colour or cackle at whatever witty phrase was written on the front. He looks at all of them now, lined up perfectly in the drawers where they’d put them together, Zayn folding and Niall sorting them. He looks at them and all he can feel is angry.

He scoops them out and tosses them onto the ground, whipping out the last few and slamming them onto the ground before shoving the drawer shut once more with a thud. And then he moves to the next drawer, this one with socks and little shirts and trousers, and he throws all of those out too. He throws out every piece of clothing in the room until he’s got a mini mountain sitting in the middle of the room.

He’s halfway down to the kitchen to grab a trash bag for them when he stops himself, realizing how foolish his impulsive reaction is. He turns, climbing the stairs once more and slipping back into the nursery. Dropping to his knees, he reaches over and picks up a shirt off the top of the pile, folding it carefully.

He folds every piece of clothing one by one, every babygro, every shirt, every little sock, and piles them all up on the floor beside him. His heart aches with each piece he sets down, reminded each time of the fact that they no longer need any of this. It feels a waste keeping them when they aren’t going to have their own baby to dress. Might as well give them to a proper family who can use them.

He’s sure that Sophia might like a couple of things for their baby girl and maybe they can donate the rest to charity. And then they won’t have to look at them everyday and be reminded of what they almost had, of the little girl who was snatched away from them before they’d had a real chance to love her.

No, that’s not right. Before they had a chance to _have_ her. Because they both already love her. They loved her the second they laid eyes on her.

The door creaks open behind Zayn but he doesn’t look up, just keeps folding up little pairs of socks, two at a time. Niall crouches beside him, his hand resting on Zayn’s hunched back and rubbing gently across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding incredibly loud in the still quiet of their home. Quiet that should have been filled with baby noises by now.

“‘S okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Niall says firmly, a self-chastising tone colouring his voice. “But I’ll make it up to you tomorrow and you’ll find a way to forgive me.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Good.” Niall’s hand keeps rubbing circles into Zayn’s back and it feels so good on the muscles that have been strained while he’s been bent over folding. Zayn lets out a soft sigh as Niall’s hand shifts up to cup the nape of his neck gently. “What’re you up to, Zee?”

“Folding.” He swallows hard against the lump that’s formed in his throat, his mouth suddenly dry and his head pounding. “Thought I’d fold everything and sort it. We should give some to Soph, maybe the rest to the charity shops. Since we don’t need them anymore.”

It hits him fast and hard. All those emotions that were brewing up inside him, hiding beneath a protective shield of apathy, they all spring up at once and Zayn’s crying harder than he’s ever cried before. His chest aches so badly that he presses his palm against his sternum, tightening his fingers in the soft fabric of the babygro in his hand. Niall’s wrapped him up in his arms in an instant and Zayn sobs into his shoulder, snotting all over Niall’s t-shirt as he holds onto his husband for dear life.

“It’s okay, Zee,” Niall mutters, running his hand softly through Zayn’s hair as he holds him close. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s probably not going to be okay for a long time. But _they’re_ okay — him and Niall are okay and that’s all that really matters to Zayn.

They shift so that Zayn is curled up in Niall’s lap, his arms wrapped over Niall’s knee as he rests his head on Niall’s thigh. The tears don’t stop and Zayn is sure that even if he tried to keep them from falling, they’d push through anyway. It always goes like this; he lets the emotions build up below the surface and when they finally break free, they are relentless, taking over until they’ve exhausted him. Those feelings want to be felt and they won’t give up until Zayn’s been right inside the emotion.

Niall is used to this, and as angry as he came across earlier when he called Zayn a robot, he knows that Niall understands. He was just upset and taking it out on Zayn when he couldn’t find another outlet where he felt safe to unleash. Because at the end of the day, Niall knows that Zayn won’t leave because of a couple of misplaced words of anger, and Zayn knows that Niall will always be there to pick up the pieces when he finally breaks down.

They promised each other forever, and that means pushing each other away sometimes but always finding their way back to each other in the end.

So Niall lets Zayn feel his pain, stroking gently through his hair as Zayn tucks his face into Niall’s thigh and allows the tears to fall. He murmurs something soothing every so often, aware that it’s falling on deaf ears but hoping that the familiar sound of his voice might provide some comfort.

Eventually the tears dry up and Zayn is breathing raggedly into the soft material of Niall’s joggers. Niall’s hand slides down from his hair, tracing over his neck before smoothing gently up and down Zayn’s back.

“How’re you doing, Zee?”

“M’okay.”

“You sure?” Zayn nods against his thigh and Niall lets out a quiet hum, his hand sliding back up so he’s got his fingers threaded in the hair at the nape of Zayn’s neck. “Can I ask you a question then?”

“Course.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

“Hmm?”

“You said earlier that you were heartbroken and that you felt guilty.” Zayn feels his cheeks flushing as he remembers what he admitted to Niall in the kitchen. Niall smoothes his thumb over the back of Zayn’s neck soothingly and Zayn lets out a shuddering sigh. “What could you possibly feel guilty for?”

“What if it was me,” Zayn stammers, finally saying the thing that’s been on his mind all day. “What if, when I talked to Lila after the baby was born, I said something wrong. What if I did something wrong.” Zayn swallows hard, a fresh wash of tears flooding his eyes as he whispers, “what if she didn’t like me, or who I was, and that’s why she changed her mind.”

“I know you didn’t say anything wrong. You’re you. You don’t say the wrong thing ever.” Zayn blows out a shaky breath as the tears press at his eyes, threatening to fall. “And it wasn’t about who you are, Zayn, because you’re the kindest, smartest, most compassionate man I know.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know that’s not what you meant. But I didn’t like what you meant — it’s a stupid reason for you to be mad at yourself. Lila didn’t change her mind because of the colour of your skin or what she thinks that means. So don’t you dare feel responsible for this because of that.”

“But —”

“Zayn, listen to me. The only thing that you could’ve done to change Lila’s mind is show her how much you loved that little girl, and make her realize that she was giving up such a precious gift. The only thing you did was love her, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for that.”

Zayn squeezes his eyes shut to fight back the tears, tightening his grip on Niall’s calf until he’s held them off. “I do love her,” Zayn mumbles into Niall’s thigh. “I love her so much. I can’t believe she isn’t going to be ours.”

“I know,” Niall agrees, his voice sounding a bit shaky. It seems he’s still got some tears left in him too. “I was so sure this time.”

“Me too.”

“It’s sad,” Niall says as he runs his hand gently through Zayn’s hair, “and it’s not fair, and it’s going to take us a long time to move past this. But we will move past this, okay Zee? It’s not going to hurt like this forever.”

The way he feels right now, Zayn isn’t so sure. It feels like his heart has been ripped in two and he’s pretty sure that the only thing that could possibly hurt worse than losing their baby girl is if he lost Niall. Even just the thought makes him clutch onto Niall impossibly tight.

“We’re going to get through this,” Niall says with such certainty that it’s almost like a promise. “I love you, and you love me —”

“I love you so much.”

“ — and that’s going to get us through this. As long as we’ve got each other, we’ll be okay.”

It’s a simple idea but it’s powerful enough to lift some of the weight off Zayn’s chest until he can finally breathe. He repeats it like a mantra in his head.

As long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be okay.

 

****

 

They’re technically on vacation from work so neither of them is very concerned when they wake up on the floor of the nursery with the late morning sun shining down on them. They don’t have anywhere to be, and while technically they should be returning back to work since neither of them is actually on paternity leave, they both know that they wouldn’t last five minutes at school so they agree to take a day.

They shower together, mostly because Zayn is still feeling a little weak from the emotional onslaught of the night before and Niall has gone back to being clingy and doesn’t want to be apart from Zayn for more than a couple of seconds. They go through the motions together, the routine of washing so ingrained that neither of them has to think about it. When they get dressed afterward, Zayn ends up in a pair of Niall’s joggers and Niall’s got one of his old t-shirts on, and they take one look at each other and can’t help laughing.

It’s the first time either of them have laughed since they first heard the news. Zayn feels like it’s a step in the right direction.

They waste away the afternoon watching old footie matches on the telly — well, Niall watches footie and Zayn sort of dozes in his lap, not paying attention even when he’s awake. He couldn’t care less about football but Niall does, and it’s one of the things that Zayn tolerates for Niall’s sake, just like Niall tolerates watching Dead Poets Society _again_ even though Zayn’s made him watch it about a hundred times.

Around dinner time, there’s a knock at the door. Niall grumbles “go away!” in the direction of the door but he’s not loud enough to be heard, his attention still focused mostly on the football game. Zayn gives his leg a scolding swat before uncurling from Niall’s lap and standing, dragging his feet down the hall to the front door as the person on the other side knocks once more.

It’s Sophia standing on the other side when he opens the door and she doesn’t hesitate a second pulling Zayn into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she says quietly as she gives him a squeeze, and surprisingly instead of making Zayn feel sad all over again, it makes him feel a little bit better. “It’s terrible, and unfair, and I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it so, except for me saying the same thing to Niall, that’s the last you’ll hear about it from me.”

Zayn chuckles a bit because that is just so typically Sophia, knowing exactly how to read the mood in a room. She understands people better than anyone he’s met, which is what makes her such a great psychologist.

“Thanks Soph,” Zayn breathes out as he finally lets her go. She gives him a warm smile, patting his cheek gently, and then brushes past him.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” she asks loud enough that Niall must hear her from the other room. “And please tell me he’s bathed and he’s not just sitting in his own filth wallowing.”

“Oi, fuck off Soph.”

“Niall Horan,” Sophia scolds as she sweeps into the living room where Niall has sprawled out on the couch in Zayn’s absence, “that is no way to talk to the person who’s brought you your dinner.” She shoves the box in her hand toward Zayn and waves Niall up. “Now get up you big lump, and give me a proper hug.”

Niall stands with a heavy sigh and lets Sophia pull him close. Zayn knows that she’s telling Niall what she told him back at the door, and it does it’s job because Niall tightens his hold around her for a minute before letting her go, holding her at arm's’ length as he says something to her quietly.

From this angle, Zayn can see the slight bump pushing at her shirt and he wonders how they didn’t notice before. They must have been too wrapped up in their own little world.

“You didn’t have to bring dinner, Sophia,” Niall says as he invites her to sit down. She plops onto the couch with a huff, shaking her head a bit as she pulls the loops of a plastic bag off her wrist and dumps it on the table.

“After my husband so tactlessly stole your thunder yesterday, announcing our pregnancy at your bloody baby shower thing, I felt it was necessary to drop by and apologize for him being such a knob. Honestly,” she says with a sigh, “he can be so bloody clueless sometimes. But I love him,” she adds as her lips turn up in a smile. “But enough about us, I’ve brought you dinner and I won’t leave until I’ve watched you eat it so I know you’re not both negligently starving yourselves.”

Zayn circles the coffee table to sit on the couch between Sophia and Niall, tossing open the box that she’d given him. He frowns at the contents. “I thought you said you brought dinner.”

“I did.”

“This is chocolate cake.”

“Yes,” Sophia says pointedly, “ _dinner_. And there’s ice cream in that bag for dessert.” When Zayn quirks his brow curiously, her expression softens. “Comfort food. You two have earned it.”

Zayn’s eyes shoot down, that lump springing up in his throat and making it hard to swallow. Niall, however, doesn’t seem to have the same problem controlling his emotions. He simply sits up, rooting through the plastic bag Sophia’s brought looking for a fork, and immediately digs into the cake when he finds one. He shovels three mouthfuls of cake into his mouth before he finally decides to swallow, giving Sophia a closed-mouth smile.

“It’s perfect,” he tells her, holding the cake out to Zayn in an offering. “Have some, Zee. You’ll like it.”

He does like it, as it turns out, and he eats a third of it. Niall eats half on his own, and Sophia has a small piece herself because “I’m going to be getting round soon anyway, I don’t need any extra help with that”.

They get through half a tub of ice cream too, all three of them lounging back against the couch when they’re too full to eat a single bite more. Zayn feels a little sick to his stomach but the sugar is helping his mood a bit, making him feel just a little less sad. It helps that Sophia is holding his hand gently, a supportive presence from the one person who Zayn suspects understands what their heartbreak might feel like considering she’s now about to become a mum. It also helps that Niall’s curled up against his side, leaning heavily on Zayn as he dozes.

That emptiness that had filled the house the night before has disappeared.

Zayn’s almost asleep himself, the commentary on the football so dreadfully dull that it’s nearly impossible _not_ to fall asleep, when his phone buzzes on the table in front of him. He’s considering ignoring it but he gets a glimpse of the phone number before the screen goes blank and he jerks forward, dropping Sophia’s hand so he can snatch up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Malik.” It’s Nadia, the social worker. “I need to speak with you about the adoption.”

Zayn’s so stunned for a moment that he doesn’t know what to say. Because Nadia doesn’t sound like she did yesterday — she doesn’t sound guilty or disappointed.

She sounds happy.

Zayn is shaking his shoulder in a second, jolting Niall who’s sleeping there until he lifts his head dozily. Zayn begins pushing against Niall’s thigh with the hand that’s been tucked under Niall’s body while he slept, shaking him awake. “Niall, get up.”

“What’s going on?” Niall mumbles, his brow scrunching up as he looks up at Zayn.

Zayn holds up his hand to make Niall wait as he speaks to Nadia. “What about the adoption?”

He can practically hear the smile on Nadia’s face as she says, “There’s been a development.”

 

****

 

They bring Ruby home late that night, though she doesn’t become _Ruby_ for a few days at least.

And while they plan on waiting to name her until they figure out what kind of person she is, the truth is that she gets her name late at night, when Niall is rocking her to sleep. He’s singing her a little bit of Ruby Tuesday and she blows a spit bubble so big that it actually startles Niall when it pops and he insists it’s a sign.

“That’s the name she wants, Zee,” Niall says emphatically when he shakes Zayn awake two minutes after it happens even though it was Niall’s turn to get up. Zayn wants to be angry, especially since his husband is talking absolute rubbish but Niall is just so happy and Zayn can’t say no when he’s happy.

And besides, Ruby does seem very _Ruby_ -ish when Zayn gets to know her. Which he does, often in the wee hours of the morning when she can’t sleep. She’s not much of a crier — she’ll just whine for a bit until someone comes in to check on her. Sometimes she needs something, a bottle or a nappy change, but sometimes she just wants a cuddle so Zayn will pick her up and walk her around the room as he talks to her about his day, or the weather, or whatever is on his mind. Lately, he’s been telling her about his other kids, his class, and giving her all the fresh gossip — Ruby has high hopes for John and Britt too.

He thought being a dad would be hard, but while it is tiring, it’s easier than he thought. Ruby’s a pretty good baby and other than waking them up at night when she’s feeling a bit lonely, days run smoothly in their house. Not to say that there aren’t a few mishaps — Niall putting her nappies on backwards after a particularly long night spent awake with her, or Zayn forgetting a cloth and ending up with baby spit up all down his back on more than one occasion — but they manage. And the happy moments far outweigh the petrifying ones.

Zayn suspects though, that even when parenting is impossibly difficult, he and Niall will face it all with a smile on their faces, because for one agonizing day, they thought they’d lost this chance forever. They’d thought that they’d never have Ruby in their lives again.

Lila changed her mind in the end. Like Zayn suspected, she was just confused and unsure of what she wanted, and she made a rash decision when she had the staggering realization that she was giving up her baby forever. She was a bit teary when she explained it to Zayn and Niall when they arrived at the hospital, the guilt clear in her expression. When she told them that it was nothing at all to do with them, that she thought they were amazing people and a great couple, Niall snatched up Zayn’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

In the end, she admitted that she felt so empty, thinking of just handing her daughter off to them and closing that door. And Zayn couldn’t blame her for that — it had been exactly how he felt when he’d learned that the adoption was called off, like a piece of him had been taken away and there was a hole in it’s place. He could only imagine that it was ten times harder when Lila had carried the baby for nine months.

All she wanted was a place in the baby’s life so she asked that she be allowed to write letters to Zayn and Niall. They didn’t have to share them with the baby if they didn’t want to but she wanted updates on how the baby was doing. It was easy for Zayn and Niall to agree to such a small concession — they’d never planned on hiding the adoption from their daughter, and it seemed only fair that Lila knew about the baby if the baby knew about her. With that agreement made, they signed the papers.

Now Ruby is theirs. Ruby Horan-Malik. And that piece of their family that was missing is finally in place, completing their puzzle.

That’s how he feels when they first step into the nursery, the room that will be _her_ room until she grows up and moves out. He feels whole.

“This is your room,” Zayn murmurs to Ruby as he walks her around a bit, rocking her gently so she’ll go back to sleep. “This is your cot, and that’s your stuffed rabbit, and that —” Zayn says as he turns to face Niall who is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching his little family with a serene smile “ — that’s your Daddy.”

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, one that makes her smack her lips contentedly.

“And me,” he whispers into her baby soft skin. “I’m your Baba.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think; or come and find me on [tumblr](http://bioluminescentwriting.tumblr.com/).  
> Thanks for reading  
> -K


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